


The Hidden Painting

by loonyloopyluna



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, listen I love to suffer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-07
Updated: 2016-02-07
Packaged: 2018-05-18 22:15:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5945128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loonyloopyluna/pseuds/loonyloopyluna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Teddy finds out, contrary to popular belief, that he doesn't have every inch of Hogwarts memorized.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Hidden Painting

Teddy Lupin had been at Hogwarts for six and a half years. On top of that, he was Head Boy. When a first year asked for directions, he would always help, because he was pretty confident that he knew every inch of the castle.

Which was why he was rather disturbed when, during Christmas dinner at the Potters’, James turned to his uncle and said, “Did you know there’s a painting of you at school?”

Ron raised his eyebrows. “Really? Well, it’s about time I was recognized for all of the amazingly heroic things I’ve done--”

At one end of the table, Ginny rolled her eyes. “Honestly, Ron, you hardly ever shut up about how you’re on a Chocolate Frog card. Isn’t that recognition enough?”

James ripped off a huge chunk of his roll and stuffed it in his mouth. “S’not just you,” he mumbled. Swallowing hard, he continued. “Mum and Dad are there, too, and Aunt Hermione, and Professor Longbottom, and a bunch of other people. It’s weird, though. I try talking to you guys sometimes, uh… because I’m bored, or whatever. But you’re like, I dunno, Teddy’s age.”

Albus elbowed his brother and shot him a shit-eating grin. “Aw, did James get homesick?”

“Shut up! Like you’ll be any better when you go off to school.”

Teddy tuned out the rest of the conversation. His mind wheeled. What painting was he talking about? He couldn’t remember seeing anything like that.

The days passed, and term started again. And still, Teddy couldn’t stop wondering about this mystery painting James had found. One day, walking out of breakfast, he almost barrelled into him.

“Whoa,” Teddy said, steadying himself with a hand on James’ shoulder. “You okay?”

“Oh, sorry,” James replied. “Didn’t see you. Don’t want to be late.”

“Sure thing.” Teddy patted him on the shoulder, and the younger boy trotted off again, but Teddy, suddenly making up his mind, called after him. “Hey!”

James turned around, one hand drumming nervously against the strap of his bag. “Yeah?”

“That, um, painting you were talking about at Christmas,” Teddy began. James looked confused, so he clarified, “The one you talk to sometimes. With your parents and all those other people.”

“I’m not homesick,” James said swiftly.

“Of course not. Anyway, where is it?”

James glanced up at the stairs he’d been heading towards, which were becoming much less crowded as people filtered into their classrooms. “It’s, uh, somewhere along the History of Magic corridor. I really gotta go; if I’m late to Charms again…”

“Oh, hold on,” Teddy said, rifling through his bag. He pulled out a scrap of parchment and a pencil and braced it against his leg, quickly scrawling,  _ Prof. Flitwick-- please excuse James’ tardiness. He was giving me a hand. T. Lupin, Head Boy _ . He hesitated, then added the date next to his name, in case James was tempted to reuse it. He offered it to James, who skimmed it, eyes wide.

“You can do that?”

“Don’t get too used to it,” Teddy warned, chuckling. “Thanks.” He waved as James scurried up the stairs.

Well. He’d been planning on heading to the library anyway; he could take a detour on the way there. Really, he wasn’t sure why it bothered him so much that a first-year had found a part of the school that he hadn’t in all of his years there. It was a big place. No one could be expected to know it backwards and forwards.

And, he told himself, he shouldn’t be surprised that there was a painting of his godfather somewhere. Teddy vaguely knew that he was famous when he was younger, and although it annoyed him to no end, people didn’t seem to want to forget it.

He wandered down the hallway from the Great Hall, nearly deserted now. He counted himself lucky to have a free period first thing in the morning; he usually wasn’t much for sleeping in, but he loved being able to take his time after breakfast some days.

Binns didn’t seem to have a class first thing, either. Teddy passed his door, which was shut tightly. No one came to see him if they didn’t have class, and truthfully, he probably wouldn’t be very accommodating if they wanted to. He probably wouldn’t be even able to recognize them.

Teddy slowed down, scanning the walls as he walked by. There was a huge painting of the Goblin Wars taking up much of one wall; he’d always ignored it, but next to it, he saw a smaller frame, with a shiny plaque underneath it. He crept closer. It read, “Order of the Phoenix, 1998.”

It showed a crowd of people; some he recognized, some he didn’t. In the front and center stood a group of teenagers, in school robes and Muggle clothes. He recognized his godfather in the middle of it all.

He peered closely at the painting, trying to identify the others. Flanking him were obviously Ron and Hermione, and he could easily find Ginny and Professor Longbottom, as James had said. In fact, all of the Weasleys were there; he spotted Bill and Fleur, and George, who stood back-to-back with a man who could’ve been his twin, and Percy, standing rather sheepishly behind Charlie. There was a tall, stern-looking woman, standing proudly in the background, wearing a large, moth-eaten hat. He found Kingsley Shacklebolt,  _ the Minister, _ standing next to a woman--

Teddy suddenly felt like he couldn’t breathe. The woman had short, brown hair and brightly-colored robes, and her arm was looped around a tired-looking man with grey-brown hair. As he watched, the woman scrunched up her face, and her hair seemed to shrink back into her skull, becoming shorter and changing to a bright green. She winked at him.

Teddy reached out and pressed his fingers against the glass, smudging it. “Mum?” he whispered. “Dad?” The words sounded odd to his ears; he wasn’t used to saying them by themselves. Your mum, her dad; never his  _ own. _

**Author's Note:**

> I had an idea a few weeks ago. I needed a break from another thing I'm working on, so I picked up on this; then I decided to try to make it exactly 1000 words. Spice it up a bit.
> 
> Also, Teddy is my favorite, and I don't understand why I love him so much because he's literally an infant the only time we meet him in canon. If a picture counts as meeting.
> 
> (Oh boy, it's been a while since I've published a fic. Sorry if it's terrible.)


End file.
